


Dragon's Crest- The Cruel Scythe's Blade

by 1freekywriter



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Assassination, Dragons, Magic-Users, Major Character Injury, Minor Character Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, magical world has semi modern tech, mute character uses sign language and sometimes telepathy, nb character uses he/they pronouns, wholesome sibling bonds
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1freekywriter/pseuds/1freekywriter
Summary: The boy without a name is five when he takes his first life. When he kills his first target. He listens dutifully as his father talks with one of his clients- a man who would scare any kid besides the ones who had the grim reaper as a father. The boy had yet to meet anyone else who dripped malice like ooze or whose words were tinged with bloodlust.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! Just a warning, this is going to include a lot of blood and murder and dark shit. I'll include possible trigger warnings in the notes every chapter that they might be needed. if you do choose to read, please be careful. Stay safe and have fun!

The boy without a name is five when he takes his first life. When he kills his first target. He listens dutifully as his father talks with one of his clients- a man who would scare any kid besides the ones who had the grim reaper as a father. The boy had yet to meet anyone else who dripped malice like ooze or whose words were tinged with bloodlust.

It's easy to track down the target. All the boy has to do is pretend to be lost. It's harder, he realizes, to actually get the target alone. The target wants him to talk- to tell him his name. The boy swallows down his anger. The target wants him to break the rules.

He leaves the body in the alley. Exhausted, he looks down on his blood splattered clothes. Shamefully, he realizes that they're ruined. His father steps out from the shadows and turns down the alley to investigate the body. The boy waits for his return.

”You did decent,” his father remarks coldly. He beams at the praise, and the warmth of that smile is almost tangible. His father turns around and walks away.

The boy follows him dutifully, excited to show his siblings his success. They make it home as the yelling begins. The boy doesn’t know this, but his target was someone important, a member of the King’s Royal Council. And this death will result in the downfall of Lunar.

But, right now, all the boy knows is that he might have earned his name.

His oldest sister smiles at him and pats his head. Her smile is strained. She leads him downstairs into the weapons room. Their father stands still in front of a huge metal table as tall as the boy himself. Placed neatly across the table are more weapons than the boy’s ever seen.

“Choose one, and it will be you. You will be bonded to it, and it will be your name, your health, and your place in this house,” his father explains calmly, his voice booming and reverberating through the room. The boy grins at his sister. She pats his head softly before nudging him towards the table.

The boy steps onto the step stool and looks over all the weapons. There are more than the boy knows the names of. It takes him over an hour to choose as his father explains each one. There’s one weapon that outshines the rest. It’s simple and elegant, but there’s something so attractive about it to the boy. He reaches out to it.

“You want that one?”

The boy nods enthusiastically.

“Very well. You will begin training with it tomorrow,” his father pauses, “Scythe.”

13 YEARS LATER

LUNAR- THE CITY OF TWO NIGHTS

Scythe watches, bored as the try-hard thug punches the wall next to his face. Scythe lets out a silent breath. Really? They think just because he can’t speak, he’s intimidated by loud noises? Dumbasses.

“What, does the cat got your tongue? What’s wrong; you can tell us- Oh wait! You can’t,” the thug laughs. Scythe rolls his eyes. Seriously? How old are these assholes? Are they not aware that he could kill them with his pinky? Gods, even Sai could get them with a blink, probably.

“What? If you’re so angry, why don’t you tell us off? We’ll leave if you tell us to,” another one taunts.

“Leave,” Scythe signs.

They all start laughing.

“What was that? We couldn’t quite hear you!”

Scythe feels the air shift around him as Mystri walks up.

“He said leave, you dipshits,” Mystri comments dryly, scowling harshly.

The loudmouth snarls, raising a fist. They strike in Mystri’s direction. Scythe grabs their wrist and grips it tightly. It would be so easy to crush their wrist, and if they don’t apologize, he’ll crush their arm too.

“Scythe, drop it,” Mystri warns softly. He rests his hands on Scythe’s waist and kisses his head.

“When they apologize, Myst,” Scythe thinks stubbornly. Mystri scoffs.

“He says he’ll let you go if you apologize.”

“Like Death I will,” the loudmouth snarls, trying to yank themselves free from Scythe’s grip. Scythe crushes their wrist. He grabs their shoulder with his other hand.

“Scythe, stop it,” Mystri warns again, less soft. “I will tell your sister.”

Scythe rolls his eyes but drops the loudmouth’s arm. The group scuttles away like the pests they are.

“You need to learn how to take it easy with them,” Mystri sighs, letting go of Scythe. Scythe pouts, leaning against Mystri again.

“Well then, they shouldn’t try hurting you,” Scythe signs, turning around to face Mystri. Mystri shakes his head softly, smiling. He pulls Scythe towards him and rests his head against Scythe’s shoulder. He places his hands on Scythe’s waist. Scythe blushes and threads his fingers through Mystri’s hair. He presses a small kiss on Mystri’s jaw.

“Love you,” Scythe thinks.

“Love you too,” Mystri laughs, before adding, “We should probably leave. I promised your sister that I’d get you home before dark.” He lets go of Scythe, hanging on a moment longer than necessary.

“Which sister?” Scythe signs.

Mystri bumps his shoulder, exhaling tiredly, “Does it matter? They could both wipe me from existence with a single look.”

“I would never let anyone hurt you,” Scythe signs, not sure if he should feel offended or not.

“I know you wouldn’t, love.” Mystri loops an arm around Scythe’s careful to make sure that Scythe could still sign.

The two walk in a comfortable quiet. The sun is starting to dip down in the sky when the two reach Scythe’s family’s manor. Scythe exhales and unlocks the door. It swings open with a creak. He and Mystri enter.

“Oh good, you’re back,” Scythe’s older sister calls from the living room. She sits on one of the several plush mats.

“Hello, Sister,” Scythe signs after sitting down across from her.

“Hello Scythe. Hello Mystri. How were your days?” Labrys asks, setting down a cup of tea on the small wooden table that sits in the middle of the living room. Mystri seats down next to Scythe, wrapping an arm around his waist.

“My day was great,” Mystri laughs, tossing his head back.

“Better than mine,” Scythe signs, “A mob of idiots tried attacking me. And then they were even dumber and tried attacking Mystri.”

Labrys leans closer and her eyes narrow. Energy seems to dance off of the ax sitting next to her.

“Were you hurt?”

“Of course not,” Mystri assures her, “we were just fine.”

Labrys calms down, a relieved smile spreading across her face. Scythe sighs. He rests his head on his palm.

“Oh, that’s a relief! You didn’t kill them, did you, Scythe?

He sits back up. “No. There was no need to.”

“Good. Anyways, Sai’s Matching went great. She got a Phoenix Feather, obviously,” Labrys explains, her voice warm with pride. Despite himself, Scythe feels a smile creep onto his face.

“Where is she?” Mystri asks, putting his hands together deviously.

“What are you planning?” Scythe asks. Mystri smiles at him. Labrys shakes her head, grinning.

“She’s with Zwei. He’s taking her out for some dessert thing,” Labrys pauses, frowning for a moment, “although I would have been more than happy to make it for them.”

“At least they’re out of your hair for now,” Scythe signs, smirking. Labrys rolls her eyes. Mystri pats Scythe on his leg.

“Be nice,” he cautions.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Have you two eaten yet?”

Scythe shakes his head. Mystri sighs, running a hand through his long silver-gray hair. Scythe taps him on the shoulder. He turns his head a little, letting his hair fall over it. Scythe runs his fingers through it. Mystri laughs to himself before sliding down to lay down, resting his head on Scythe’s lap.

“Wow, I’m right here,” Labrys laughs. Scythe raises his eyebrows at her.

“Okay?”

“We live here too,” Mystri comments.

“I can’t believe this. Anyways, food! Have you eaten, Mystri?”

“No. I didn’t get the chance to. Some kid had a spell mess up and I had to chase runaway pumpkin for two hours,” Mystri complains. Scythe runs his fingers through his hair again. Labrys’s face screws up; her nose crinkles and her eyes narrow, her mouth twisting in a disgusted frown.

“Awful. Terrible. Disgusting,” Labrys spits.

Mystri laughs, his shoulders shaking against Scythe. Scythe pokes his cheek. Mystri grabs his hand before Scythe has the chance to pull it away. He presses a quick kiss to his palm, winking. Scythe rolls his eyes, but he feels a warmth spread through him, like milk spreading through tea.

“Love you,” Scythe signs.

“Love you too.”

Labrys sighs heavily. Scythe looks up at her. A fond smile forms on her face. Her eyes look sad though. Scythe pulls his hand away from Mystri to ask her, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just, you’re the second youngest, yet you’re the only one who’s already engaged,” Labrys sighs, again.

“You’ll find someone, Rys,” Mystri assures her.

“Oh, so you see into the future now?”

“Yup. Sure do,” Mystri laughs.

Somewhere in the house, a door opens and closes. Mystri sits up and scoots away from Scythe. Labrys sits up straight, erasing her face of emotion. Scythe folds his hands together and rests them on the table, squashing his smile. All the peaceful, easy going atmosphere is shattered. A tension looms above them. The air sizzles with power.

Labrys and Scythe’s father walks into the room. Scythe bows his head.

“Where are Zwei and Sai?” His voice is commanding. Scythe’s hands tremble. There’s a beat of silence as Scythe stares at Labrys, wondering if she’ll actually speak to him.

“They’re out,” Mystri answers evenly, “celebrating Sai’s Matching.”

Their father hums. Scythe forces himself to not inch closer to Mystri.

“What did she get?”

“A Phoenix Feather,” Mystri answers quickly.

He hums again. “Passable. Scythe, Labrys. Come with me.”

Scythe nods, stamping out his emotions. Labrys stands and pulls up Scythe. They follow him down into the meeting room. He sits at the head of the large table. Scythe sits a few seats down, next to Labrys.

“We have a new mission,” their father announces, “This one will be different then what we’re used to. You two and Sai will work with your cousin to eliminate five targets. Scythe, you are getting Syght Era. Labrys, you will have Ember Era. Sai will be getting Pheonix Era. Night will be getting Storm and Sky Era. That is all; you have until sun fall to prepare. Here are their files.”

Their father slides three files over to them before standing and leaving the room, taking the looming dread with him. Scythe takes a deep breath. He takes the file on his target and reads it with a frown. He has to kill a 60-year-old? That doesn’t bode well with him. Syght Era. The name is familiar. He stares at the portrait of her. Scythe exhales.

“Fuck,” Labrys groans, sliding down in her chair.

“What is it?”

“The Era’s are one of the two highest contributors to the Academy, rivaled only by our family from the light,” Labrys explains, “They’re one of the oldest families. Rumors say that their ancestors lived in the time of Dragons.”

“Is this about them, then?” Scythe asks.

“About what?” Labrys snaps before sighing, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. About the Dragons,” Scythe clarifies. Labrys rubs her face, dragging her hands down her cheeks.

“Does it matter to the mission?”

“No. It won’t affect anything for me. I was just curious.”

“You know to not ask questions Scythe. The fact that Night’s joining us is more important than the possibility of Dragons anyways,” Labrys grumbles.

“Isn’t he that really annoying one?”

“They’re all annoying, Scythe. The family in the light are the City’s most pretentious assholes. But yeah, he is.”

“Great.”

“Go get ready. We need to meet at the theater before the sun sets.” Labrys stands up, pushing in her chair as she leaves.

Scythe sits alone in the meeting room, pouring over the file. He shuts down his emotions, but it still feels wrong.

A few minutes later, he hears the door open and shut. He looks in that direction. Mystri stands in front of the door. Scythe sits up.

“Love, what’s the mission?”

“A family,” Scythe signs. Guilt floods him when he sees Mystri’s face fall. His mouth straightens into a hard, disinterested line before crumbling into a frown. His eyes, usually bright and vivid darken.

He shouldn’t have told him. Mystri sighs heavily and walks over Scythe.

Scythe closes his eyes as Mystri leans over him, resting his arms on his shoulders. He plants a soft kiss on the top of Scythe’s head. Scythe cherishes the feeling, knowing at any moment Mystri might come to his senses and leave.

“Is it just you on this mission?”

“No.”

“Who’s with you?”

“Labrys, Sai, and a cousin from the light,” Scythe signs.

“Really? Someone from the main branch? Who?”

“His name is Night. He is annoying.”

Mystri lets out a surprised laugh. Scythe cocks his head to the side. Did he say something funny? He feels Mystri run his fingers through his hair. He leans into the touch. An unsettling reluctance to do the mission floods Scythe.

Mystri’s hands travel from Scythe’s hair to the back of the chair. Scythe looks at him, raising an eyebrow.

“You need to get ready, right?:

“I have until sundown to get there,” Scythe argues.

“You don’t have as much time as you think, Scythe.” Mystri’s voice becomes strained, and Scythe knows to not push his luck.

“Okay.”

Mystri backs away from the chair. Scythe gets up, stretching his arms over his head.

Scythe walks out of the room, glancing behind his shoulder at Mystri. Mystri returns his gaze, evenly. He smiles softly, almost sheepishly.

The weapons room is busy. In the time Scythe spent thinking about the mission, Zwei and Sai returned. Sai’s now cleaning her weapon. She leans against the table, wiping it down dutifully. She looks up when Scythe enters, her mess of curly black hair bouncing with the movement. Scythe nods at her before inspecting the daggers.

He doesn’t want something that will cause a lot of pain. For a moment, he considers poison but decides against it. He grabs a standard dagger.

“That’s all you’re getting?” Sai asks.

“That’s all I need,” Scythe answers. Sai rolls her eyes but drops the subject. Scythe leaves the room. He walks back upstairs. Labrys, Zwei, and Mystri are sitting in the living room. Labrys is wiping down her ax. Zwei watches her, looking bored. Scythe sits down next to Mystri, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Scythe, are you ready?” Labrys asks, setting down the cloth. Some light reflects off of the ax, giving it a lethal glint. Scythe nods. His hand finds Mystri’s. In his other hand, shadows swirl lazily until they shoot away in every direction. Where the shadows were, a dagger is balanced masterfully.

“Is that all you’ll need?” Zwei asks. His voice is deep and booming, similar to their father’s but lacking the dripping malice. Scythe nods.

A few minutes pass in silence. Scythe leans against Mystri, tracing nonsensical patterns into his arm with his fingertip. Finally, Sai walks into the room. She’s tossing two sais into the air. She catches both of them expertly. She looks burdened by something. Her eyes are stormy. Scythe relates.

Labrys claps, catching everyone’s attention. Scythe watches as she stands up, hefting the ax over her shoulders.

“Is everyone ready?” she asks, lightly. Scythe nods. Sai sighs before nodding. Labrys and Sai start walking towards the door. Scythe lets go of Mystri and stands up.

“Be safe,” Mystri whispers, grabbing Scythe’s hand. Scythe smiles and brings Mystri’s hand to his lips. He kisses his knuckles gently.

“Always,” he thinks.

“By the Dragons, do you two need to be so sappy in front of us?” Zwei groans. Scythe rolls his eyes and Mystri lets out a small puff of laughter.

Scythe sends him one last small smile before joining his sisters at the door. They leave into the quickly approaching darkness as the last dredges of sunlight filter through trees and buildings, casting the town into scarlet and yellow hues.

If Scythe had known what this night would cause, he would’ve never left.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission will not go how Scythe expects it too, but just how bad will it be?
> 
> Warnings for the description of violence and potentially disturbing scenes. And murder.

Scythe looks over the theater. It’s not a place  he would do a mission. It’s too well lit, populated, and meaningful to be considered a good spot. He shares a glance with Labrys and Sai. From the looks of it, they agree too. 

“I’m assuming that Father didn’t choose this spot,” Sai comments disdainfully.

“No, Night did.”

“Of course he did,” Scythe signs.

“Scythe, watch your words. Of course, Night wouldn’t know that this is the worst place for a mission. He’s-”

“Dumb?” Sai suggests gleefully.

“Sai!”

Labrys sighs and walks ahead of them. Scythe smirks at Sai, raising his fist. She matches his smirk and raises her own fist to bump his. They follow their sister into the theater. 

Scythe immediately spots the targets. There aren’t a lot of people who could afford to go here in the first place, but everyone in the lobby is giving the parents and grandmother a wide berth. He continues his scan of the room. He sees the two young ones with-

He clicks his tongue. Of course, Night would go up and talk to his targets. That ass is as subtle as a star spell in total darkness. He might as well be telling them that he’s gonna kill them.

Scythe slinks towards them quietly. He hears a snippet of their conversation.

“I hear the production about the old world is to die for,” Night laughs. Scythe’s face screws up. “Especially the part about Dragons!”

He can not believe this. That bastard is so obvious. He’s so fucking dumb. He’s a fucking example of what not to do. Scythe stews in anger. 

“Oh, Night! So good to see you again,” Labrys interrupts, getting in between Night and the targets. Her smile is thin, strained. Night regards her with minor annoyance. Scythe glares at him pointedly. The annoyance turns into a plastic smile. 

“Labrys,” he comments dryly, “it has been a while. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“We’re celebrating Sai’s Matching! Are you celebrating yours? Oh! Who’s this?” Labrys turns to the targets, “Sorry I interrupted your conversation!”

“Oh, I’m Storm. This is Sky. I’m Night’s friend,” the older one introduces herself. Scythe narrows his eyes. They’re friends? 

“Nice to meet you. Night, can we talk about something real quick?” Labrys asks, cracking her knuckles. Scythe cringes back. She’s really angry. He watches as the small one hide behind her sister’s legs. Labrys smiles softly at her. 

“Fine. I’ll see you later, Storm. Goodbye Sky.” Night sighs, sending them one last fake smile. Labrys leads Night away. Scythe doesn’t have a chance to follow them before the little one sets her gaze upon him. A feeling that Scythe barely has a name for washes over him. He supposes it might be guilt. 

“Are you related to him too?” she asks. Scythe nods before jogging to catching up to Labrys and Night. She’s whisper-yelling at him.

“Do you have any idea of the word subtle means, Night?” she snaps. Night rolls his eyes.

“Yes, I’m not an idiot.”

“Does that meaning include not talking to the people we’ve been hired to kill?”

“She’s still my friend-”

“Oh please,” Sai interjects, “you don’t have friends; you have people you can use.” 

Night turns to glare at her. His red-brown eyes are glowing with magic. Sai goes rigid. Thin black lines slash across her skin. Scythe steps in front of her, protectively. He glares at Night.

“Undo your magic, or would you rather I kill you here?” he signs. 

“You wouldn’t dare. My father would have you eliminated from the family tree,” Night scoffs. Scythe’s eyes narrow. Magic courses through his veins, concentrating in his hand. The dagger materializes. 

“Fine, whatever. Just don’t get in my way.” Night’s eyes stop glowing. Scythe feels Sai stumble against his back. He can feel her murderous glare.

“Then don’t get in ours,” Labrys warns coldly. Night scoffs and stalks away. Scythe dematerializes the dagger. 

Scythe, Labrys, and Sai retreat into the shadows, watching the targets. A few minutes later, they follow them into the screening room. 

They blend into the shadows. Scythe is the closest to Syght Era. He watches her intently. Nothing about her seems powerful. Even in her seat, she’s hunched forward, focusing intently on the magically projected images. Somewhere, someone’s narrating the history of the old war, detailing the rise and fall of the Dragons. They begin talking about the Six and the old Dragon Prophecy. Syght suddenly sits up straight. She turns her head. 

A tendril of fear creeps up Scythe’s back. She’s looking in his direction. Her eyes seem to glow in the darkness. She closes them wordlessly and turns her attention back to the projection. She looks… resigned. 

A few minutes later, the doors creak open. People in the robes of the King’s Mages slink in. It’s the signal. There’s movement from the seats. Frantic whispering. The two young ones speed walk out of the room. Chaos ensues.

Scythe waits until all of the robed mages leave before slinking up behind Syght. The dagger materializes in his hand. He raises it to the back of her throat. He takes a silent, steadying breath. His hand shakes, for some reason.

There’s a scream next to them. Syght turns to face him. Her eyes are glowing with unshed tears.

“If you’re going to kill me, Styx, don’t make me watch my children die,” she begs. Scythe closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. His hand wavers. Scythe is scared. Why is he feeling like this?

There’s another terrified scream outside the room. It sounds like the younger one.

Syght grabs Scythe desperately. “Please.”

With trembling hands, Scythe stabs her chest. His mind goes blank. Dully, he feels the warmth of the blood splatter and drip onto him. He rips the blade out. Her face tenses up with pain, and her eyes turn glassy. Scythe turns away. Her last words echo in his mind. He stumbles out of the room in a daze.

Night’s target is slumped over the little one, unmoving, but not dead. Tears stream down her face silently. An ink black liquid drips from her nose and mouth and eyes. Scythe walks past her. He’ll let Night’s failure be a failure. 

He wanders out of the theater, blind to his surroundings and numb to his feelings. Something cold drips down his cheeks. Halfheartedly, he touches it. Tears. 

Scythe finds his way home. He walks past Zwei, who’s sitting in the living room, leaning over plans for-something;  Scythe doesn’t care. He finds himself in his and Mystri’s room. Mystri is sound asleep with the covers pulled up to his chest. His face looks peaceful.  Scythe reaches out to touch him. Syght’s words echo in his ears. 

His hand drops. 

Scythe collapses onto his knees; his vision swirling and pulsing around him. It finally goes black. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scythe makes it home somehow.  
> Warning for mentions of murder and panic attacks

Scythe can feel someone’s hands on him. He hears someone call his name. His vision swims, alternating between dark and blurry like some type of twisted kaleidoscope. He feels himself being picked up and set down on something that’s not the ground. Scythe tries to move, but it’s almost as if he’s trying to swim through concrete. 

“Scythe, please, just do something,” he hears. It’s distorted. He barely makes it out. Scythe tries to raise his arm again. 

He’s scared. Why can’t he move? A million jumbled thoughts drown out anything that could help him.

“Scythe, love, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” The voice is softer. It momentarily calms him. Love? Mystri? Is the person talking to him Mystri?

“Scythe? Can you move?  Or sign?”

Scythe tries to move his arms. His vision eventually clears somewhat. He’s laying on his bed. Over him, Mystri is a blurry blob of color. He tries again. 

Eventually, his sight clears, and he can move again. He’s laying on his side. Mystri’s curled up next to him, his head pressed against Scythe’s chest.

“Scy, what happened?” he asks, quietly. Mystri shifts, propping himself up on one arm.

“I don’t know,” Scythe answers honestly, “but it was awful, Myst.” 

He closes his eyes as Mystri trails his fingers against Scythe’s arms and hands. Exhaustion settles over Scythe.

“You should get some sleep, but,” Mystri trails off. Scythe looks at him, paying more attention to his mismatched eyes than what he’s saying. Scythe loves getting lost in his eyes. They’re beautiful, as odd as they are. Maybe 5 years ago- it was right after they both started at the Academy- Mystri had some sort of mishap with a spell that turned one eye yellow while the other stayed a rich and vibrant purple.

“Scythe?”

He blinks from his trance. Mystri’s staring at him, frowning. He’s sitting up, and his hair falls against his shoulders. Scythe blinks again.

“You didn’t hear anything, did you?”

Scythe shakes his head gingerly. He pushes himself up into a sitting position, facing his fiance. His whole left side feels like static.

Mystri sighs tiredly. He regards Scythe with what he’s learned to read as affectionately exhausted. “I said that you should probably wash up. You have blood,” Mystri trails off, looking away. 

“Isn’t it a little late to be running a bath?” Scythe signs. He’s exhausted and, as good as a bath sounds, he’d rather sleep.

“I doubt they’d mind, Scythe. It’s not good to let that be on you too long. Come on; I’ll go with you,” Mystri murmurs. He leans in close, cupping Scythe’s cheeks. He peers into Scythe’s eyes.

Scythe feels his resistance crumbling. A bath would help him warm up. And relax him too. Mystri swipes his thumb across Scythe’s bottom lip. 

“Fine, okay. I'll take a bath.” Scythe relents, pulling away from Mystri. Mystri runs his fingers through Scythe's hair before planting a soft kiss on his head.

He stands up, pulling Scythe up with him. He lets Mystri lead him to the bathroom. Water runs languidly in the background noise. He lets his mind wander as Mystri strips him. Scythe assumes that if they were any other couple, this would be going differently. Not for the first time, he wonders what it would be like to normal.

His mind feels foggy, or cluttered might be a better word. Scythe isn’t sure. There are too many thoughts in his head, but none of them are distinct enough to mean anything. 

“Scythe,” Mystri interrupts his inner monologue. Scythe blinks. Mystri’s looking at him, his eye filled with concern. His brow is furrowed. After a moment, he sighs. 

“Mystri,” Scythe signs, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Just,” he pauses, exhaling, “get washed up. We’ll talk after, okay?”

Scythe nods. He steps into the small bathtub. The water is hot- to the point that it might burn. He sits down and leans against the back of the tub. He lets his legs stretch out. 

Scythe relaxes in the water for a while. The warmth relaxes both his mind and his body. The tense apprehension he felt fades away as the water turns from clear to a rusty brown. He scrubs his face with a soapy washcloth. 

Soon, the water grows cold, and Scythe drains the tub. He wraps himself in the towel and shuffles back to his room. 

Mystri sits on the bed, eyes closed. His eyebrows are furrowed. 

Scythe sits next to him and leans against his shoulder. Mystri doesn’t move.

“Myst?” Scythe thinks. Mystri sighs and rests his hand on Scythe’s lower back. His hand is warm. He almost leans into the touch. 

“Scy, what happened?”

“It was a mess,” Scythe admits, “I don’t really know how to describe it.” Mystri hums, rubbing his back slowly. 

“Was it bad?”

Scythe nods, losing himself in the calming sensations. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Mystri chuckles softly beside him. He ignores it and moves to lay across his fiance’s lap. 

“You’re worse than a cat, Scy,” Mystri complains, half-heartedly. 

A smile creeps its way onto Scythe’s face. He could even almost push the night’s previous events away when Mystri starts running his fingers through Scythe’s hair. Tenderness settles in around him, enveloping him in its warmth as if it were a blanket. 

Sleep calls to him and the bone-deep exhaustion begs him to answer it. 

Scythe wakes up shivering. He sits up, looking around the dark room. Mystri’s asleep next to him, snoring softly. The blankets have been kicked to the edge of the bed. As Scythe reaches forward to pull them back up, he realizes that he’s still naked. Oh right. He forgot about that. 

He considers for a moment. Is it worth it getting dressed now? His half-asleep mind tells him that that is the worst idea he’s ever had. He agrees and lays back down, pulling the covers over his chest. 

The early morning light that filters in through the window casts everything in an ethereal glow. Scythe blinks open his eyes, grumpily. He sits up, shivering as his bare skin meets the unforgiving cold. 

He presses a kiss onto Mystri's head. The only response is a tired grumble and an arm grabbing his side. Scythe leans against his fiancé, laughing as he grumbles again at the cold. He touches his neck, grinning as Mystri swats his hand away.

“Stop that,” he complains.

“Stop what?” Scythe thinks, mischievously.

“I'll divorce you.”

He smirks, kissing his head again. There's a quiet sigh from Mystri before he pushes himself up into a sitting position. His hair is tangled to hell, and there's the sleep crust in the corner of his eyes, but at that moment, draped in the morning light as it dances and sways with the shadows of the trees right outside the window, he is the most beautiful person Scythe ever had the pleasure of seeing. 

“Scy?”

“Yes?” he signs. 

Mystri's face grows sad. Scythe swallows back the fear rising in his throat. He watches, on edge, as Mystri cups his face in his hands, stroking his cheeks softly with his thumbs. Scythe can feel tears welling up in his eyes.

“We need to have a discussion-”

“Are we breaking up?” Scythe could hardly bear to think the words. 

“No. I'm marrying you. Scythe. There will never be anyone who I love as I love you. We are not breaking up,” Mystri assures him, wiping the tears away. “This is about yesterday.”

“I- I don't know if I can talk about it right now,” he admits slowly, his hands feeling as heavy as lead.

“Try. Scy, you collapsed on our floor, practically drenched in blood, looking half like you were soulless and half like you wanted to die. I'm not going to let this go.” The words are said gently, but there's a hard edge in his voice that makes them hard to ignore.

“Fine,” he thinks. 

Mystri lets him go, scooting back. He wraps the blanket around Scythe's shoulders. Warmth greets him like an old friend, thawing his bones.

“She knew I was there,” Scythe signs simply, trying to detach himself from last night's events. Sight Era's last words ring in his ears once more. 

“Your target?”

“Yes. I don't know when or how, but she did. And she knew why I was there too.”

Mystri inhales sharply. He moves to sit in front of Scythe again, resting a hand on his leg gently. Its warmth soothes him just a little, making it easier to continue, even when his hands begin to tremble.

“She told me that if I was going to kill her, don't make her watch her family die,” he admits. Guilt begins to suffocate him as he remembers the anguished screams around him. The expression of utter despair on the teenager haunts him, now that he's aware of everything. They had caused that, and for what? 

“Scy,” Mystri trails off as hot tears well up in his eyes. He feels them start to fall and the lump in his throat gets hard to swallow.

Scythe's hands are beyond shaking as the tears fall faster and faster. What have they been doing all these years? By the Gods, they're monsters. Scythe most of all. Nausea crashes into him, wave after wave. 

“Scythe?”

“I,” his thoughts are too chaotic to articulate anything.

“You don’t need to say anything, love. I've got you,” Mystri whispers, pulling Scythe close to his chest. He wraps his arms around him, letting his hand rest firmly against his back. 

Mystri holds him for what feels like hours as he cries until all his tears are dry. Scythe lays his head against his fiancé's chest, listening to his heartbeat. His hands are clenched into tight fists on his lap. 

“Scy, let's get married,” Mystri whispers after a while. Scythe freezes, startled. How could he still want to marry him? He presses a chaste kiss to his collarbone.

“If that's what you want,” he thinks in response.

“Of course I want to. Do you?”

Scythe closes his eyes. “More than anything.”

Mystri pulls away from him suddenly, leaving him to shiver in the cold absence. His eyes are shining with unshed tears. And yet, he looks elated. Scythe tries a smile. Mystri scoops him up in his arms, kissing his face everywhere, saving his lips for last. He presses soft kisses up along his jaw, leaving Scythe squirming. His grin is mischievous, daring Scythe to do something about it.

His warmth returns.

  
  



End file.
